I was so used to having my older brother around, and I went to him for everything.

Especially when I wanted something. Because, really, what are little sisters for?

---

As he walks in, I say in a melancholy voice, “Hey.”

He screams and puts his hand to his heart in a mock-startled way. He lets out an exaggerated breath. I ignore him and say, “There's no food anywhere!”, over-expressing my hunger.

He tells me to follow him into his room. He walks over to the plastic bag that I saw him walk in with.

“Will this work?” he asks, holding up a bag of lightly salted Lays potato chips.  

“No,” I reply, “I don't like potato chips.”

He puts the large bag back, and holds up a bag of French Onion Sunchips.

“These?” he asks again.

“No... Thanks anyway, though.” I begin to walk out, my posture slumped in exaggerated sadness, when he stops me and says, “You can have this.”

He hands me a large cookie, a third of it gone. “It's from Panera Bread. I didn't finish it because I had to go to work. It's really good, trust me.”

I smile. “Thank you, Joey,” I say, and as I begin to leave again, I see him hold up his hand for a high-five out of the corner of my eye. I turn back to return the gesture, but as I face him again, his hand is back down. So I hold mine up, and he high-fives me.

“We should make up a secret handshake,” he suggests. I eagerly nod my head in agreement.

“Okay, so what do you want it to be? Do you want it to be something... quick?” he asks.

“Yeah!”

He then asks, “What should it be?”

I'm stumped, and I let him know this. “I don't know, you're better at that kind of stuff than me!” I assure him, half afraid that he would dismiss the idea.

But he, of course, comes up with something. He explains it to me quickly, and by the time he's done, I still have no clue what we're doing.

“Okay, let's practice. Put the cookie down," he orders. I set it down on his desk.

“Now. Right hand, up, down, left hand, up, down. We do that twice. Then, right arm bump, left arm bump, and then....” he pauses. “How do you want to end it?” I shrug. We think.

He makes a weird motion with his body that looks like how football players chest-bump. I laugh, and say, “Wouldn't that look so weird?”

He smiles and says, “How about, at that point, we just jump and run away?” I laugh.

“That's perfect!” I respond. He says, “Okay, let's try it out! You're gonna have to pick up the cookie, since you're gonna be running away.” I agree, and pick it up quickly.

It falls out of the bag, and clatters onto his wood floor.

He laughs at me. I pick up the now-broken cookie and yell, “Oh, no!” dramatically, weeping over its 'corpse'.

He says, “Just go eat your cookie, we'll practice later.” I'm a little disappointed, but I nod, thank him, and leave.

I'm not sure what kind of cookie he said it was, but I sit at the kitchen table and take a bite.

Despite the fact that it was on his floor, I eat it gratefully.

It's so sweet.